The next day is back to work. Sören gets waves and trickles of customers at the coffee shop, some just wanting coffee, some wanting sandwiches and drinks, and in between he gets quiet times where he takes a seat and plays around on his Wacom tablet. He's got a digital painting in progress, a portrait of Anthony as his "swan prince", wearing a crown of golden flowers and a cloak of swan feathers, standing proudly at the bow of a boat that was shaped like a swan. This is a private painting, not for sale, that he hopes to have finished for their four-year anniversary next month.
But as Sören works on his art of Anthony, he keeps thinking about last night on the beach. How delicious the sex was, how utterly debauched it was to fuck right there in a public place, so shamelessly wanton for each other that they didn't care if someone might come along and see them. It was night and the beach had been empty, they wouldn't have been so bold to do that in broad daylight and risk more people seeing them, but there was still that risk and that had been thrilling. Sören shivers, bites his lip and whimpers as he starts to get hard and wet, wanting Anthony all over again.
He looks at the clock. It's only a little after 1 PM. Hours until they can close the shop, get upstairs, and fuck. Sören squirms in his seat, frustrated. It's going to be a long day.
He tries to get the horny thoughts out of his mind, tries to focus on the painting. He is briefly distracted by another wave of customers. But when he sits down again, Anthony comes to check on him, and just being near Anthony is driving Sören mad with lust.
When there's another break in customers and it's just them in the shop, Sören finds Anthony in the science fiction aisle putting some books away that a customer took out to browse and didn't buy, and Sören walks over. "Hi, Daddy."
"Hi, baby boy."
"I know I just saw you a few minutes ago but I miss you and need to see you again." Sören puts out his arms. "I need a hug."
Anthony comes closer and puts his arms around Sören, squeezing him tight. Sören pushes down his mask and so does Anthony and they steal a little kiss. One gentle, sweet peck becomes a deeper kiss, tongues playing, and Anthony's hands slide down from Sören's back to cup his ass. Anthony smacks Sören's ass and Sören moans, and kisses Anthony again, harder. Anthony groans into the kiss and he rubs Sören's ass before slapping it again.
Sören takes the opportunity. "I keep thinking about last night, and how hot we were together."
"Yeah, we were." Anthony grins, and sighs. "I've been thinking about it too."
Sören bites his lip and wrinkles his nose. "Daddy, I'm horny."
Anthony smirks. "Hi Horny, I'm -"
Sören grabs Anthony and kisses him, laughing. "That's my line."
"I know." Anthony rubs noses with him.
Sören's hands slide up Anthony's chest. "Nobody else is in the store right now."
Anthony's eyebrows shoot up and his mouth opens slightly, as he makes the connection. Before he can say anything, Sören unzips his jeans and takes down his boxer-briefs, shoving his packer in his pocket. He reaches for Anthony's jeans and Anthony gets them down, putting his own packer in his pocket, chuckling.
"You are so naughty," Anthony husks.
"Mmmm." Sören gives him another kiss. "So hard and wet for you. I need you now."
"God." Anthony kisses him back and comes even closer. They take hold of each other's hips and start grinding together, cock teasing cock. "Fuck."
"Oh, Daddy." Sören gasps and shivers, working his hips. Their cocks feel so good together, rubbing like this, and once again there's that forbidden thrill of doing this in a semi-public place, the risk of getting caught if they get more customers. They're so far gone in their lust for each other that they'll rut like this, and Sören loves it, rubbing faster, losing himself in the pleasure and passion.
"God, I love it when you're a slut like this." Anthony kisses him.
"I'm a slut for you, Daddy." Sören kisses him back.
They kiss open-mouthed, tongues licking, mirroring the way their cocks are rubbing together, then their mouths crush together and they kiss deeply, as they press into each other more firmly, rubbing harder. They're both shaking now, almost there. Sören is desperate to come but he can't get enough of their hot, needy fuck, that feeling of utter abandon, so intoxicating. Sören can smell the musk of their sex, and he moans, wondering if anyone will hear it from the street. Anthony groans back, kissing Sören's neck, licking, nibbling.
"You are such a hot little slut," Anthony purrs. One hand grips the O-ring on Sören's collar and the other rubs Sören's ass.
"Mmmmm."
"Daddy's little slut." Anthony spanks Sören's ass.
Sören gets closer. They're both panting; the heat in Anthony's eyes makes Sören drip and throb, Anthony playing with the O-ring on his collar and smacking his ass some more gets Sören hotter, and when Anthony bites Sören's neck, growling, Sören clutches at him desperately, rocking his hips, Anthony bucking back at him, rubbing hard and fast, right there, right there... "Oh god, don't stop, Daddy, fuck me, don't you fucking stop," Sören cries out -
- The bells at the door chime and Sören hears the door open.
"Fuck," Sören and Anthony gasp in unison.
They have to stop. Neither of them have come yet, and they give each other pained looks as they quickly adjust their packers and pull their pants back up.
"Hellooooo?" Mark's voice calls out.
Anthony and Sören erupt into gigglesnorts - Sören feels so ridiculous now, his face on fire - and Sören and Anthony peek out of the science fiction aisle to see Mark walking down the middle of the store, looking around.
"Oh, hi Mark," Sören says, waving, giving a cheesy little grin, then realizes his mask isn't up and he puts it up.
Anthony shoves his mask back up and steps out into the middle, gives a jaunty salute, and puts his hands on his hips. Sören laughs harder.
"Hiiii." Mark gives them the side-eye. His nostrils twitch slightly, and Anthony turns beetroot; Sören wants to crawl into the bookshelves and die, knowing Mark probably smells sex.
"Can we help you with anything?" Anthony asks.
Sören jumps in, because even if Mark turns around and leaves, it'll be hard to get back in the mood to finish what they started - and risk another interruption - so he needs to distract himself, or he's going to explode. "Would you like something to eat?"
Anthony gives Sören a pointed look. "I could go for something to eat."
"I bet," Sören mutters. Thanks, Anthony. Sören clears his throat, narrows his eyes at Anthony - who winks - and leads the way to the cafe.
As Mark decides what he wants, and Sören gets to work on Anthony's BLT, Sören wonders why Mark is here during the daytime, and just hangs around. He wonders if Mark has a job. Maybe Mark has a job in the evenings, but most people who work nights sleep until the late afternoon. Maybe Mark works from home and maybe it's part-time. On the other hand, Sören notices Mark pays for stuff in exact change, and seems apologetic about not tipping more. Sören wonders if he's out of work, or possibly even disabled and on assistance.
Sören thinks about how sad Mark's songs were last night, before he started playing for them; one hurting person can recognize another. He notices the horrific burn scar on Mark's right hand. He guesses Mark is probably on SSDI for psych reasons, but he feels like that's not his business and he shouldn't pry, especially not when they really can't afford to turn off regular customers, and Sören knows from his own struggle with depression and anxiety that it can be a sensitive subject. Nonetheless, Sören feels like he ought to do something kind, a small act of generosity, not something that will hurt their business or be an affront to Mark's dignity.
"Would you like a free drink?" Sören asks Mark, hoping Anthony won't be upset for not consulting him first, glancing over nervously, then back at Mark. "A way to say thank you for your music last night."
To Sören's relief, Anthony nods. Then Anthony adds, "You could even have a sandwich on us."
"Oh." Mark laughs nervously. He has his mask off in the cafe and he's really beautiful when he smiles and laughs like that. Sören's cheeks burn again, not wanting to notice how attractive Mark is. You're married. Mark shifts in his chair. "You guys gave me a marshmallow -"
Sören chuckles. "We had plenty to spare. Doesn't seem like enough for the concert, though, you're very talented."
Mark's face is pink. Then he smiles that sweet, cute smile again, and nods. "I won't say no, but I don't want to put you in debt -"
"I think we can manage this once," Anthony says, and Sören nods.
Mark goes with a chicken club and a larger size of lemonade, and he tries to tip, but Sören refuses even though yes, they could use the money. "When we say it's on us, it's on us."
"Not literally," Anthony adds.
Sören facepalms. Anthony cackles, and Sören gives in to silent laughter. Mark groans loudly but he laughs too.
That unfortunately gets Sören's mind going about the times he and Anthony have eaten food off each other's bodies, like strawberries and whipped cream. Sören gets himself a Diet Mountain Dew and sits down with Anthony and Mark.
"My compliments to the chef," Mark says to Sören.
"It's just a sandwich," Sören says. "Nothing special."
"It still tastes good."
"Sören's a good cook," Anthony says. "We take turns. Cooking, that is." Anthony gives Sören that look again; Anthony is very much a dominant top. Sören kicks Anthony under the table and Anthony demurely bites into his sandwich.
"It's nice that you guys take care of each other." Mark sighs a little; Sören senses the wistfulness behind it.
"What about you?" Anthony asks, trying to make polite conversation. "Do you have someone?"
Mark shakes his head. "Not in a long time."
"I'm amazed, with that voice," Sören blurts out, then he claps his hand over his mouth, feeling like he said the wrong thing. Like he's going to come off as flirting. He doesn't want to offend Anthony and he doesn't want to weird out Mark.
But Mark just laughs. "It's hard to be in a relationship with a musician. Most musicians aren't happy people. Just look at what happened to Chris Cornell."
"God, my heart." Anthony puts a hand on his heart and closes his eyes for a moment.
"So, yeah, I'm not exactly a barrel of monkeys," Mark says.
Sören hurts for him - he wants to make it better somehow but he can't, and saying "I'm sorry" seems useless and too much like pity - so Sören does what he always does when he needs to cope. "Hi Not Exactly A Barrel Of Monkeys."
Mark stops mid-chew, food in his mouth, and the sight of gorgeous Mark with his mouth hanging open like that, full of sandwich, makes Sören almost choke on his drink.
Mark resumes chewing and swallows, and he gives them a stern, exasperated look but his eyes are smiling. "You said last night that I should be on an idol show or have a record deal but you guys need your own comedy hour."
Anthony grins. "And just think, you've only visited the shop a few times now. I'm surprised we haven't scared you away yet." Then he grimaces, and mutters, "Goddammit."
Sören pounces on it. "HI SURPRISED WE HAVEN'T SCARED YOU AWAY YET."
"I think he's gonna need another free sandwich for putting up with your dad jokes," Anthony says.
Sören wonders if Anthony notices what he's noticing - that Mark probably doesn't have a job and he's coming here for cheap food that's somewhat better quality than a fast-food place; Anthony was a lawyer for years and doesn't miss a thing. "Then I'm going to make as many dad jokes as possible and make sure every penny we're losing counts."
Anthony smirks.
"Oh no," Sören grumbles.
"Hi Going To Make As Many Dad Jokes As Possible And Make Sure Every Penny We're Losing Counts," Anthony and Mark say in unison.
"I like you," Anthony finishes, smiling at Mark.
"Yeah, you guys are good people." Mark smiles back. "Bad jokes, good people."
"Well, one of us is good." Anthony gives Sören another one of those looks. "I don't know about this one over here. He's pretty naughty today." Anthony rubs Sören's knee under the table, and his hand slides up Sören's thigh.
Sören tries not to whimper into his drink, squirming in his seat as his cock throbs to Anthony's touch, his juices dripping.
Mark raises his eyebrows, then smirks and sips his lemonade, saying nothing.
As soon as Anthony and Sören get upstairs and the cats have been fed, Sören pushes Anthony up against the refrigerator, kissing him hard. Sören pulls back to tug his shirt over his head and puts Anthony's hands on his bare chest, and Anthony begins to play with Sören's hard pierced nipples as they kiss again.
Then Anthony grabs Sören by the O-ring of his collar and smacks Sören's ass, hard. "It's cute when you think you're in charge."
Sören bites his lip, feeling himself throb and drip with desire. "Please, Daddy."
"You, teasing slut, are going to wait until after dinner. And, since you were VERY naughty..." Anthony walks off to the bedroom while Sören waits. Anthony comes back with the bullet vibe and the remote. He stuffs it down Sören's boxer-briefs, and his fingers slide out to play with Sören's cock, then he tastes Sören from his fingers as he turns on the vibe.
Sören howls with frustration. Anthony cackles, smacks Sören on the bottom again, and says, "Sit down and rest while I take care of dinner."
Anthony makes spinach, zucchini and mushroom alfredo, with a side of garlic bread, the vibe humming away inside Sören as he cooks, and Anthony turns it up higher, while they eat. Sören feels ready to climb the walls by the time they've finished eating, and he whines at Anthony.
"OK, brat. Let's brush our teeth so we don't have garlic breath, then we can play." Anthony gives Sören that look again. "I was thinking we could make a video tonight."
Sören claps excitedly. That means Anthony is going to be especially wicked, and as badly as Sören needs to come, he knows it'll be all the more delicious for whatever torment Anthony has planned for him.
Once they're washed up and the cameras are set up and the candles are lit, Anthony leads Sören into the bedroom. Sören kneels as Anthony clips the leash into the O-ring of his collar, and Anthony's hand rests on Sören's head for a moment, gently tousling Sören's curls, a symbolic gesture of their bond that always makes Sören melt a little.
Anthony helps Sören up and they kiss deeply - their subscribers will love it, and they love it - and Anthony brings Sören over to the bed. He sits, and then he pulls Sören over his knee. The riding crop is next to Anthony.
"You," Anthony says, gripping the O-ring of Sören's collar, "were naughty today, teasing me."
Sören bats his lashes and bites his lip. "Uh-oh."
"Yeah, uh-oh is right. Brat. You earnt twenty lashes. You know the drill."
Sören nods. "Yes, Daddy."
Anthony brings the crop to Sören's lips and Sören obediently kisses it. Then the crop brushes down Sören's spine, making Sören moan and shiver - Anthony knows how sensitive he is - and the crop slides down into the crack of Sören's ass and back up, down then up, before it cracks on one of Sören's ass cheeks. "One," Anthony counts.
Sören grabs the sheets and whimpers, the sting radiating through his body.
The crop slaps the other ass cheek. "Two."
Each crack stings harder and harder, and Sören slips into that hazy, dreamlike state where it seems like time slows down and the only thing that exists is this, giving himself to his dom, giving Anthony the gift of his surrender, his passion as the pain transmutes to pleasure, agony becomes ecstasy. Again and again Anthony brings the riding crop down on Sören's ass, counting, and Sören can hear the numbers, can hear himself moaning as he grinds against Anthony's thigh, but the sensation is louder somehow, the need in him, the hunger, going mad with lust at Anthony dominating him like this, so strong and powerful.
After the last smack of the crop, Anthony puts it down and then he begins to gently, tenderly rub Sören's sore, stinging ass. "What a pretty shade of red."
Anthony's fingers stray to the back of Sören's thigh, and dip between Sören's legs. "My my my, you are so wet. And you made my thigh all wet, too."
"I hope I made more than your thigh wet, Daddy."
Anthony laughs and pats Sören's ass, then he rubs Sören's shoulder and tugs the leash, helping Sören onto the bed; Sören lays back against the pillows, and when he winces at the pressure on his sore ass, Anthony slips a pillow under Sören's hips, a softer spot for his butt.
Then Anthony replies. "I think so." Anthony scoots up, still holding the leash, straddling Sören's shoulders, and Anthony spreads his legs, giving Sören a view. Sören's breath hitches at the sight of Anthony's cock jutting at him, the thick cream pooling from his cunt. Sören licks his lips and moans.
"Here, you teased Daddy, now Daddy needs some relief." Holding the leash with one hand, yanking Sören's curls with the other, Anthony moves closer.
Sören doesn't hesitate, lips latching onto Anthony's cock. Anthony groans and yanks Sören's curls harder. Sören bobs his head back and forth, sucking hard, slurping, really going for it. Anthony rocks his hips, moaning, fucking Sören's mouth. Sören whimpers around the cock in his mouth. He reaches down to touch himself, feverish with lust. Anthony figures out from the way Sören's shoulder is rocking, what he's doing, and grabs Sören's arm away.
"I didn't say you could touch yourself, slut," Anthony snarls.
Sören's cock throbs and he drips down his thighs. He loves it when Anthony bosses him around, and Anthony knows it.
Anthony's riding Sören's face now, panting, moaning. Having Anthony's cock in his mouth, pleasing him like this, is making Sören even more desperate, but he behaves, putting his hands on Anthony's body instead, caressing his thighs, his hips, his stomach, worshiping the gorgeous man he loves.
"Good boy," Anthony rasps, tugging on Sören's curls again. "Almost there, baby."
"Mmmm. Mhmmm. Mmmmmmmmmm." Sören sucks harder, suctioning like a vacuum, humming around the cock in his mouth. Anthony is quivering, gasping for breath.
At last it happens, Anthony cries out as his cock twitches in Sören's mouth and his boypussy lips flutter, cream gushing from his cunt. Sören takes a few licks at Anthony's cock, until Anthony pulls back, moaning, breath shaking. Anthony rolls next to Sören, his face lit up with a euphoric grin. Sören smiles, feeling so soft for him, loving it when he smiles like that.
They kiss deeply, and Anthony moans into the kiss. Sören smiles again, knowing Anthony can taste himself. Anthony boops Sören's nose and kisses it, making Sören giggle.
They snuggle for a few moments, so Anthony can recover, and Sören admires the sight of him with his eyes closed, long lashes framing his cheeks, perfectly at peace. Sören tenderly musses Anthony's hair, and Anthony rests on Sören's shoulder with a deep sigh.
When Anthony looks up, he smiles at Sören again, and they rub noses as Anthony's hand begins to caress Sören's stomach in slow, lazy circles, then slides down to Sören's thigh, and reaches between Sören's legs. He rubs Sören's cock slowly, gently, teasing him. "I bet you want to come, don't you."
"Wow, Captain Obvious."
They laugh together and Anthony tousles Sören's curls. "Brat."
"Takk."
Anthony ties Sören's leash to one of the bedposts as he gets up. Sören admires Anthony's back and ass as Anthony walks over to one of the dressers and opens the toy drawer. Anthony turns around and lets Sören watch him step into a strap-on harness, with an eight-inch veiny cock that matches the pale peachy tone of Anthony's skin. Anthony walks over, the strap-on bobbing with each step, and Sören moans at the sight of it, getting wetter for him.
Anthony gets out the lube - though Sören is very, very wet, he's been on T long enough that they still need it - and as Sören sucks on the dildo, Anthony reaches down and sticks slick, gooey fingers inside Sören's cunt.
"You look so hot sucking this thing," Anthony purrs, stroking Sören's cheek with his free hand. "You have such gorgeous lips."
"Mmmmmm."
When Sören is ready, Anthony pulls back, pours lube over the dildo, and then he unties Sören's leash and tugs on it. "Face down, arse up, brat."
Sören gets on all fours and sticks his ass out at Anthony, giving a sassy butt wiggle. Anthony's response is to slap Sören's ass, which is still sore from the crop, and Sören cries out, more juices dripping down his thighs.
Anthony gets behind Sören, and Sören lets out a little moan as he feels the head of the dildo kiss his boypussy lips. "You want it, slut?" Anthony asks, rubbing Sören's sore ass with his free hand.
"So bad, Daddy."
Anthony slaps Sören's ass again and pushes inside Sören's cunt, slowly, until he bottoms out. Sören gasps, feeling like he's being split.
Then Anthony thrusts. Anthony is a brutal top, hips slapping against Sören's hips as he pounds Sören's pussy, wild, hard, and fast. One hand pulls on the leash and the other reaches around to play with Sören's cock, Anthony making a V with his fingers and slightly pinching Sören's cock with it, tugging on it back and forth. The dildo bangs away at Sören's G-spot as Anthony's fingers find that perfect rhythm on Sören's cock, and the pleasure is overwhelming. Sören needs to come but he needs to get fucked, going even deeper into subspace as Anthony takes him, claims him. Sören knows this is pleasing Anthony too, the harness has a custom fitting to rub against Anthony's cock, so the harder Anthony fucks, the more it rubs his cock, and hearing Anthony grunt and groan over the wet suctioning sound of the dildo gliding in and out of Sören's cunt and the smack of their hips makes Sören grab the sheets, white-knuckled...
...and Sören starts making animal noises. It isn't acting for the camera - if anything, Sören feels almost a little embarrassed, but too far gone in his lust to care. Sören is roaring, snarling, growling, the sounds deep and primal, louder and louder.
"Oh god, that's it, let me hear you," Anthony says, and lets out a moan, giving Sören's ass a slap with the leash wrapped around his hand. "God, I love it when you let go like this." Anthony smacks Sören's ass again.
Sören's throat is starting to hurt, but each thrust inside him, tight tug on his cock, is bringing out that animal in him, rutting, fevered. Nothing else matters. There is nothing else but this, the way Sören wants him, needs him, wants to be taken, ravaged, wrecked, with no doubt tomorrow that Anthony has had him like this. Sören bellows and shouts and roars, losing control, giving all that he is.
From Anthony's ragged, shaking breath, Sören knows Anthony is close. Sören is close too. Just a little more. He needs more, needs to keep fucking, needs to keep being taken, but it's too good, so hot, pleasure building to the shatterpoint...
Sören lets out a sobbing scream as he comes, cunt contracting hard, cock pulsing. Two thrusts later Anthony lets out a little strangled cry and collapses onto Sören's back, panting. Sören goes from roars to coos as he coasts on the bliss, floating, shining, so sweet.
"I love you," Sören mumbles.
"Oh baby, I love you." Anthony pets Sören's curls and Sören flexes his fingers and toes and purrs like a cat, giggling.
They eventually roll onto their sides. Anthony takes off the strap-on and puts it off to the side. He pets Sören's curls some more, strokes his face, looking into Sören's eyes and smiling. They rub their noses and give each other soft little kisses. Soon the kisses are longer, tongues teasing, both of them moaning into each kiss, and Anthony's fingers walk down Sören's chest and back up. His thumb rubs a pierced nipple and Sören gasps and shivers.
"Want one more?" Anthony asks.
Sören nods.
For their big finish, Anthony lays on his back this time and Sören straddles his hips. Anthony reaches down and guides his cock as Sören sinks down. It feels like getting fingered, as Sören works his hips, moving up and down, in circles, and Sören loves it, moaning. Anthony moans too.
"Oh god, it's so wet." Anthony lets out a hiss through clenched teeth. "Fuck, you feel good..."
"Oh, Daddy, I love your cock. The strap is nice, but I love your cock best." Sören means it. Anthony's cock works inside him like a finger or a tongue, precision drilling at that spot inside him.
Anthony tugs on Sören's leash with one hand, and plays with Sören's hard little cock with the other, rubbing it with his thumb, rolling it between his thumb and finger, and when Sören starts riding harder, Anthony's fingers make a V again, Sören's cock gliding in and out. Sören bounces away, roaring and growling once more, feeling utterly possessed by primal lust, overwhelmed by pleasure. Anthony moans, and wraps the leash around his right hand before he slaps Sören's ass again, his left hand working Sören's cock faster.
When Sören is close, his nails dig into Anthony's shoulders and he gets louder, snarling as Anthony pants, a wild look in his eye as he rocks his hips back at Sören, making Sören work for it.
They come together, Anthony's cock twitching inside Sören as Sören clenches, and when Anthony pulls out, Sören screams as he clenches so hard he sprays clear slick all over Anthony's face and chest and stomach. Anthony laughs, delighted, and pulls Sören into his arms and kisses him deeply. Sören giggles, joy surging with each pulse of his climax. Everything is beautiful. All is full of love.
With Sören's head on Anthony's chest, Anthony rocks him, pets him. "That's a good boy," Anthony whispers. "That's my good, sweet boy." Then Anthony shakes with silent laughter that bubbles out of him.
"What?"
Anthony facepalms, and takes his hand away to grin at Sören, face beetroot, eyes sparkling. "You sound like Jonathan Davis from Korn when you get like that."
"Oh. Oh god."
"I love it - and I love Korn - but yeah. You could have easily fronted a nu-metal band back in the day."
Sören laughs with him too, and the laughter more fully relaxes him, sweet and mellow. Just as Sören starts to doze off, there is a booming knock at the front door. Sören startles awake and Anthony sits up with a start, eyes wide, mouth open. The knock comes again, louder, and there's a male voice at the door. "Police, open up."
Anthony's eyebrows shoot up and Sören feels like his heart is about to stop. They aren't Black, but Sören is still afraid of the American police anyway.
Anthony puts on a robe, and walks out. Sören hears Anthony at the door, but doesn't hear the sound of the door opening.
"Um, you're going to need a warrant for that," Anthony says.
A male voice shouts back, "We were called in on a domestic, this is an emergency call, you don't want to be charged with obstruction, do you?"
Sören hears the sound of the door opening, and the police radios. Sören's heart pounds in his ears. He can just barely make out the sound of Anthony talking to the police, and then he hears Anthony's footsteps down the hall.
"They want to talk to you," Anthony says.
Sören reaches for his robe and throws it on, tying it close together, making sure his genitals aren't exposed. In his panic, he doesn't realize until he's gotten to the open plan kitchen and living room that he didn't take off the leash, still clipped into his collar, the leash is dangling on the floor and he almost trips over it, and now of course the police have seen it, so he doesn't want to take it off and make it more conspicuous.
One of the police is male, a tall burly white guy with a bald head who reminds Sören of Mr. Clean, and a short but muscular woman with pixie cut blonde hair and blue eyes in a cute but unsmiling face who reminds Sören of Tasha Yar from Star Trek: The Next Generation. Mr. Clean smiles to seem unthreatening, though the smile doesn't meet his eyes, and Yar just gives them an icy stare.
"We got a call saying it sounds like someone is being killed in here," Yar says.
"Oh. Oh god." Sören facepalms.
"So, are you all right?" Mr. Clean asks. "He hasn't been hitting you?"
Sören bites his lower lip and tries desperately not to laugh - a nervous, hysteria-panic laugh, he's scared and shaking a little - and, since his brain often copes with humor, he has to hold himself back from answering Only in the fun, sexy way. "Oh no," Sören says. "Everything's fine."
"What's going on with that leash?" Yar nods at it and death glares.
Sören gulps. He doesn't expect cops to understand BDSM as separate from abuse, which could escalate things quickly, and the LGBT aspect just complicates things further. Maine is a liberal state but there are still far-right white supremacists who live here, and Sören knows a lot of people who become cops are bullies, and he doesn't want to deal with anything where they have to talk about sex and possibly deal with homophobia - and transphobia if things escalate and they go poking at records - so he doesn't want to answer with anything sexual. As far as the cops are concerned, they're just Bert and Ernie living together, really good pals. He needs to think fast.
"Oh, this?" Sören picks up the leash and twirls it a little. He suddenly remembers Anthony's comment in the afterglow. You sound like Jonathan Davis from Korn when you get like that. "Oh, I was. Practicing 'Freak On A Leash' by Korn." Sören starts doing a dance, stomping and thrusting his pelvis. "BOOM da da boom da da EEMA, a boom da da BOOM da da EEMA, GO!" Sören gets louder as he roars, "SOMETHING, on the dum na na EEMA, somethings they FIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT, something, on the DUM NA NA EEMA, SOMETHINGS THEY FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT."
Yar and Mr. Clean give each other the side-eye, and then Mr. Clean clears his throat and squirms. "All righty then," Mr. Clean says. "I think we're good here, right?"
"Roger that." Yar still has that unfriendly look on her face as she gives a little ta-ta wave, stepping towards the door as quickly as she can. "Glad to know everything's fine, have a good night."
"Take care," Mr. Clean says, grimacing as he follows behind Yar. As the door closes and their shoes clack down the steps, Sören hears Yar mutter to Mr. Clean, "What is wrong with those guys? They are so weird."
Sören and Anthony look at each other, then Anthony sputters and falls over, laughing so hard he spasms, face red, tearing up. Relief floods Sören - things could have gone much, much worse - and he drops down on Anthony and realizes the absolute nuttery of what he's just done and he gigglesnorts, snorting louder and louder until Anthony puts his hand over Sören's mouth.
Anthony wipes a tear. "Oh my god. Oh my fucking god."
"Well, that was special."
They look at each other and crack up laughing again. The cats are very distressed now, chirping and circling to see if their humans are OK. Seamus walks on Anthony and starts headbutting him aggressively, while Solly grabs Sören's wrist with her front paws and gently noms. Snúður rubs against Sören and Anthony, tail high in the air. They pet and skritch the cats, and Solly lets out a plaintive meow as if to say There were strange people in our house.
"Yeah, I know," Anthony says, chucking Solly's chin. "Poor babies, having your night disrupted."
"I almost feel sorry for whichever neighbor that was." Sören sighs. "I hope things aren't going to be awkward for us in this neighborhood now."
"Eh." Anthony shrugs.
Sören has to go there. "I guess that depends on whether or not they're Korn fans."
Anthony cracks up laughing again. "You know nothing, Jon Davis."
"HEY!" Sören gives Anthony noogies, and Anthony tweaks Sören's nose before he steals a kiss.
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